


Minutes

by PonyCorpse



Series: Super Gay Pistol Pony Rodeo Collection [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Frottage, I have no idea what to tag okay sorry, Love Confessions, M/M, OMG IT IS YES GOOD, ass grabbing, is ass grabbing a tag, really hardcore make outs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PonyCorpse/pseuds/PonyCorpse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a complete whim Dirk takes the chance to visit Jake on his island, and despite years of practice his calm facade fails and he ends up telling Jake everything. However, things go a little bit better than he had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minutes

Your name is Dirk Strider, and it was only about two lots of sixty seconds ago that the walls of your expertly crafted façade, that which you’d spent fucking years mastering, had crumbled to rambling and occasionally stuttering dust at your feet. You’d always been a little frightened –not that you’d ever admit it- that this would happen but you’d felt confident enough in your familiarity with bullshittery to not take any extra precautions. Obviously you’d miscalculated. And you know exactly what was missing from that equation.

Typing away under your trademark orange creamsicle text was one thing; it gave you time to think and choose your words, no betrayal from the tone of your voice and of course how could you forget the most glorious of all qualities to virtual chat: the backspace, but talking in person was another. So the idea of you gushing out your feelings to one extremely baffled jungle boy was something you never had seen happening aside from in your sappiest dreams and most embarrassing nightmares. But as mentioned before that wasn’t quite the situation at hand. Instead of a dispassionate, inanimate and completely unjudgemental screen and keyboard combo in front of you –or of course some equally unassuming shades- it was none other than the object of your tormented affections, one Jake English, who was currently dealing with the onslaught of your failed emotional smokescreen.

And so, after crossing the divide on a whim met with the less than subtle encouragement of a certain Miss Lalonde, it had taken you what… about two hours before you’d cracked? The thought makes you wince internally, had it really only been that long? You really had overestimated yourself. But honestly, making this trip had seemed like a really good idea at the time and you suppose nothing would ever have stopped you from stepping through to greet your long time best bud and almost as long time crush. So, with a slight bitter taste to your thought process if such a thing is possible, you figure that you’ve made your bed and now you’ll have to sleep in it. Hopefully with a certain tan lined beef cake at your side. I mean what.  
He’s blushing pretty hardcore at this point and you’re honestly starting to wonder if you feel offended or mildly victorious at his obvious discomfort. Eyes averted, check, stutter, check, hand writhing, check. Dear lord this bozo was such an open book that if you didn’t know any better you would have thought he was putting it on. But thankfully you do know better and you know that every failed sentence Jake forms is one that he genuinely intended to finish, if only for a microsecond.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and it has been about two lots of sixty seconds since you confessed to Jake that you’d pretty much been in love with him for about five years now and it’s also been about one lot of thirty seconds since you’ve started to get a little irked at how much shock the brunette is in. Well, you assume it’s shock, sure the guy wears his heart on his sleeve but right now you’re pretty worked up yourself so you reckon your margin for error is most likely a little larger than usual. Was what you’d said really that mind-blowing? It’d been the truth and yeah, you sorta’ regret not slamming in some sick rhymes while you were at it but surely all that you’d come out with had made sense?! What the hell was this guy’s problem?

“Okay, Jake.” You start, realising now that your hands at balled at your sides in what you’d never admit to be an attempt at stopping them from shaking. It wasn’t what you’d ever have picked as an ace confession location, but you suppose that the little pumpkin patch clearing had some decent aesthetics, take for example this tree root it really is rather nice okay man up and stop staring at the ground dickprince.  
“I sure as hell don’t think you’ve been keeping track but it’s been a good minute and a half since I finished talking and you’ve not said a word and to be honest, bro, you’re freaking me out a little here and I would appreciate it if you said something.”

If you do say so yourself –which you totally do _do_ \- you kept your voice pretty damn chill in that there exclamation. You’re the king of calm, it’s you. And speaking of which, you words seemed to have had somewhat of the desired effect as Jake has stopped that stupid squirming and actually looks like he might be able to say something. So, you wait, letting your arms relax a little at your sides and letting out a small, shallow breath as that adorkable twang you know to be Jake’s voice finally resurfaces.

“You rather caught me off guard, chum!” He starts. God you remember how much you used to cringe when he used that word. Not because of some stupid reason involving him referring to you as a friend or anything, but simply because Jesus fuck who even calls people ‘chum’ these days? But just as nearly everything else to do with him, it had grown on you and now you barely notice the way he talks unless he comes up with something really fucking creative. But even then you guess now you just find it kind of adorable.

“I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that from you…!! Especially not _today_! By which I mean…-” Jake averts his eyes again, most likely staring at the same root you were admiring a few moments ago.  
But the end of his sentence doesn’t come, and you figure you’ll have to help him out a little.

“So, although not today, you _had_ expected something?” You offer, feeling nerves flutter up in your gut once more. Was this a good sign? Surely if he had pre-empted some sort of confession from you he’d thought about what he would say when the time actually arrived?

“Forgive my totally unbrolike narcissism here, Strider, but yeah, I guess I had.” Jake retorts sheepishly, his shoulders rising and falling in a shrug so casual it makes your breath hitch. Perhaps you’d underestimated him as much as you had overestimated yourself. Sure, you’d dropped hints and everything but half the reason you’d been so confident as to do so was because truly you thought he’d never give them a second glance.

“I’ve mentioned to the girls once or twice about having some sort of inkling that you might have uh… harboured such feelings for me but I suppose I’d thought you’d gotten over them or something.”  
That stings a little. You’re not entirely sure if he’s questioning the legitimacy of your feelings or whether he is just being an assuming idiot like usual, but you’d wager it’s a bit of both.

“I did mention that this had been going for five years, right, that wasn’t a thing I did in my head, was it?” You groan, rubbing your temple with the gloved knuckles of your right hand. The other boy’s cheeks darken once more and he shakes his hands in front of him in a resounding “no, you definitely said that”.

“Obviously that’s not the case! But I’m just telling you the truth here, chap! I mean, people do forget those sorts of things even if you didn’t! But what I was going to say was that I uh, I guess you could say I’m relieved, actually.”

If you had the ability to physically perk your ears up at his words you would have done it, but instead the flurry of butterflies in your stomach rocket up your throat and escape in a small, spluttered gasp. What the hell is that supposed to mean? You could answer your own question and you sure as hell know what you want the answer to be but dear god, there has never been anything you’ve wanted someone else to confirm for you in all of your life. Thankfully, the look on your face must have been enough to make Jake realise what you need, and he lets out a small, awkward laugh and scratches the back of his neck before speaking once more.

“I guess you could say that after believing you felt that for such a long time I… I grew to really like the idea of you feeling that way.”  
He’s doing that thing where he looks at you with his face slightly lowered and it makes his eyelashes look really long and holy fuck he needs to stop doing that or you’re going to violently invade his personal bubble you swear to god.  
“When I thought you’d gotten over it I was really disappointed. I figured that perhaps it was better because you’d obviously felt that way for so long, and by Jove that sure as anything isn’t fair, so it would only be right that you’d move on.”

You barely realise how quiet Jake’s voice has gotten. It’s almost as if he is worried someone else might hear, but both of you know that here on hellmurder island your only neighbours are animals and harmless foliage. But it doesn’t make any difference, the weight of the conversation complied from just how much it means and just how precariously your relationship teeters on the edge of both being ruined and utterly flourishing makes the air thick, hanging around your shoulders and making breathing difficult. But the weight is delicate and you can’t help but keep your voice down too, as if anything louder would shatter the ambience that has your heart hammering against your shirt.

“What are you saying?” You manage, swallowing thickly against the lump in your throat. When had he gotten so close? You can’t remember stepping forward and you can’t remember him moving either, but right now you could count every single one of those almost invisible freckles on his nose or every crease on his lips.  
“You’re going to have to be a little straighter with me here, this is killing me.” The irony of your statement is completely lost on you. There is only so far you’re willing to push right now, and without some sort of confirmation you really don’t think you can go much further. If your head wasn’t so damn cloudy you’d be begging inside of it for him to just give you a simple red or green light. You’ve never been so damn sick of amber in all of your life, and fucking hell everyone knows you dig that colour.

But what you get instead of some sort of verbal clarification is something that in years to come will still make your chest ache when you remember it. Jake just steps forward, as brazen as if it was nothing at all, and soon his hand is on your jaw and it takes you every effort to not flinch just from how unexpected the contact was. Your head spins as you try to document everything, the feel of his fingers under your face and the slight stroking motion of his thumb against your cheek. He’s so warm, but he’s always been some sort of human hot-water bottle, and you lean against the hand tentatively, wondering if it’s healthy for your heart to be going at the pace it is. But whatever inner monologue, whatever train of thought you’d been forming is thrown completely out of the window because now he is leaning in and you can feel the warmth of his breath on the tip of your tongue. You don’t even have to inch closer to close the gap as he’s way ahead of you, and in a million years you’d never thought that if you ever had the chance to kiss him you’d need to put so little effort into it. But sure enough, with so much uncertainty that it almost physically hurts, Jake pushes his lips onto yours and you’re pretty sure the sound of everything you thought you knew crashing to the ground is audible.  
He’s softer than you’d imagined and you feel yourself mould to him instantly. The shock of it all renders you immobile for a split second, but soon enough the subtle movement of his mouth coaxes you to return the favour, capturing his bottom lip between your own and breathlessly working it at a steady pace. It’s chaste and you can feel a shiver running up your spine from how ghostly his touches are but every sense you possess is completely intoxicated by him and it just makes it perfect. He smells like the grass and rain of his island but it’s the slightly musky, smoky undertones that linger more strongly in his hair and on his breath that are thick and just so Jake that have you sighing against his lips. It makes you think of gunpowder and fire and you’re sure you’ll never tire of it.  
Your hand finds his collar and you take the material in your fist, using it as some sort of lifeline and although you know if he did you’d let go instantly, something to anchor Jake to you and stop him from pulling away. But he doesn’t, instead with growing confidence he moves the hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, gently tugging the shorter strands of blonde hair there through his fingers. The pressure is slight, but it pushes you into him and you have to tilt your head to the left to stop your noses from bumping together awkwardly. Everything is slow and seems surreal. You’ve had dreams that started this way many a time, those that left your sheets a mess and your chest heavy when you awoke in the morning. But this is real and as that notion finally dawns on you a desperation you’d managed to suppress for years erupts in what feels to be every fibre of your being, ringing in your ears, buzzing in your fingertips and making your knees shake. In other words, you fucking swoon. You’ve wanted him for so long, wanted to be close to him and even now it feels like the gap between you is a million miles long, and so the arm you never realised had wrapped around his middle is pulling him to you on its own accord, pressing your chests flush together as you feel your inhibitions slipping away.

You part your lips slightly and push further into him, forcing his mouth open with a little more vigour than you’d actually intended, but Jake complies eagerly and it’s barely seconds before he’s running his tongue against your lips, leaving a scalding, wet trail in its wake. He’s so brazen that the small noise of appreciation that forms in the back of your throat surfaces without restraint, and you’d be embarrassed if you didn’t feel him smile against you when he hears it. Obviously pleased he tries it again but this time you’re ready for it and dart your tongue out to catch his own and the audible hitch in his breathing leaves you smirking.  
Your confidence has come back in leaps and bounds now and with Jake’s help what previously was a chaste and sickeningly sweet kiss turns into contact so frenzied you’d have thought it was your last, not first kiss. But in the back of your head, somewhere past the hazy intoxication fuelling your current desperation, you know that tomorrow you have to leave and the amount of uranium that allowed you to visit was so extortionate it might not be years before you can return. That thought makes you feel physically sick though, so you not so much push it to the back of your mind as let your thoughts cloud over so much that it disappears. But even so the justification is there, so you don’t feel all that guilty when you take the plunge to pilfer his mouth, boldly sweeping your tongue past his lips and relishing the taste and the surprised noise Jake makes when it rolls against his own.  
It’s only now that you realise the ache in your chest is half from a lack of oxygen and you begrudgingly pull back, arms still wrapped around the brunette’s middle as you lazily pull your eyes back open. Slightly confused at first it takes you a second to realise he’d removed your glasses at some point and they were now held in one of the hands he has behind your head, most likely the one that isn’t tangled in your hair. Taking the chance to finally get a good look at him, you realise you’re not the only one who needed a gasp of air, as the breath passing by his now wet and parted lips is quick and very warm, making your own damp mouth tingle as it hits it. Letting your now uncovered eyes roam you can’t help but appreciate the slight redness of his cheeks and the glassy look to those emerald eyes; obviously you weren’t the only one who was enjoying themselves.

Jake watches you carefully as you take in everything, most likely trying to guess what you’re thinking or coming up with some ridiculous phrase to describe the bright amber of your eyes. He’s never been this close to you before, and you’ve usually got your trademark shades in place so you suppose you’re not surprised that he’s staring. But soon his eyes drop and you watch curiously as he trails his hands tentatively down your shoulders and across your chest. It sends you shuddering and you grin softly, a chuckle forming in your throat at just how careful he’s being. You’d have thought he was the one that had wanted this for years, not the other way around, and that thought makes a ghost of a blush play over your cheeks as you remember how long you’ve waited. But as if he is making a habit of it, Jake clears all of your thoughts instantly as his fingertips find their way up the front of your shirt, mapping up your stomach and pulling up the fabric with them. You bite your lip and feel your skin burn beneath his fingertips, the contrast of his warm hands and the slightly chilled evening air making it hard to resist the urge to push into his painfully faint touches.  
You’re not entirely sure why you remember exactly at this point, but you suddenly recall a promise you had made to Roxy before you left. She’d always known how you felt; the girl was like a sister to you and you love her just as much as Jake but in a completely different way. Both her and Jane mean the world to you, the blonde as the most perfect form of family in a single entity and Miss Crocker as one of the best friends you could ever have wished for. And before you had left Roxy had told you that if you didn’t get some ‘tanned jungle butt’ before you left, she was going to beat you to death with one of her weird taxidermy felines. And well, letting a lady down really isn’t the gentlemanly thing to do, is it?  
So, totally begrudgingly –not- you take the chance to slide the hands wrapped around Jake’s waist free and in what you hope isn’t too much of a tentative motion trail them down to the cusp of his shorts and push your fingers between the fabric and his skin. Flicking your gaze to him with a playful smirk, he looks as if he’s going to laugh, so you decide to shut him up and just shove your hands down the rest of the way and grab yourself a handful. You expect a yelp, perhaps some sort of scandalized remark but instead the douche surprises you once more and suddenly the playful nature of everything is completely destroyed, because now suddenly he’s pulling you back to him, and you’re staggering awkwardly after him as he grips your t-shirt from the inside and pulls you to the trees. This really keeps getting better and better, you think as you return your attention hungrily to that neck you’re so fond of.

His back hits the trunk of the tree with a fabric-muffled thud and his grip on your shirt pulls you back against his chest once more without missing a single beat, not that you put up a fight of course. Something in the back of your head is congratulating you on how this has all turned out. To be perfectly honest your initial thoughts were that Jake would be a inescapably great friend and he’d let you down gently, telling you some noise like he had a thing for Jane or using that age old line you remember so well about maybe “If you were a dame…”. But here you are, pressed up against him, his hands up your shirt and your hand down his shorts whilst you completely devour his neck and he seems to be enjoying every second of it. Fucking hell, you should really have done this whole confession thing sooner.  
Biting down a little where his shoulder meets his neck you positively revel in the small growl that escapes the brunette, rumbling deep in his chest and spilling from his mouth in a way almost feral. You suppose living in a jungle will do that to a guy, and you sure as hell aren’t complaining. Repeating the action with a little more pressure you expect him to perhaps bat you away or somehow voice that it hurts a little too much, but instead with a groan that leaves your mind positively spinning, Jake actually grinds his hips into you, and looking up you see his eyelids flutter closed.  
Oh, so that’s how it is.  
Realising what he’d done, the brunette pulls his eyes back open apologetically and he gives you a breathy, sheepish chuckle, the red on his cheeks darkening momentarily. But what you can only imagine to be a borderline predatory and entirely appreciative grin is plastered over your features and Jake seems to catch on pretty quickly that what he did was certainly not something he should even think about apologising for. He stares at you for a second and you feel the smile falter as your nerves flare back up. Is he alright? Did you do something wrong? But it doesn’t take him much more than another few moments before seemingly coming utterly undone. One of the hands that was pressed against your chest pulls free and fists the back of your hair, and he leans back into the bark behind him whilst pulling you forward, forcing both your hips and your mouths together once more, but this time Jake pushes forward unabashedly, kissing you with enough determination and feverish purpose to knock all the air from your chest and leave you gasping against his lips within seconds. The heat is infectious though, and you roll your hips back into him and woah, okay, you can definitely feel that. Someone really is enjoying themselves. But you suppose that notion is a little hypocritical, because if you’re going to be blunt –which, right now you are- every single one of those little gasps and sighs Jake makes is going straight to your dick.  
Somewhere behind the still steadily hazy mess that is your mind you think about bringing up that time you’d mentioned how “Members of the juggalo party aren't the only ones who can pitch a big tent” or that it was better late than never in regard to the whole ‘boner magic’ noise, but you figure there is a time and place for that and now is not it. So instead you keep your focus on the steady rhythm the two of you have going, pushing forward and pressing down in time when he does, your previously heated kiss now more of the two of you just breathing heavily against each other’s mouths. Not that you mind of course, as it gives you more of a chance to watch his face and you honestly think you’ve never seen anything more beautiful in your life. His eyes are barely open, piercing green irises glassy and only just on show behind his curtain of ridiculously dark eyelashes, his lips too are parted and his jaw is slack as short, panted breaths pull in and out from between them heatedly. And a gentle glisten of sweat covers his forehead, leaving a few strands of his hair to stick to it, which you would be tempted to brush to the sides if you weren’t already perfectly happy with your hands on his ass.  
Speaking of which, you’d have complimented him on it if you didn’t think any of your words would be left as an incoherent mess once they left you. It’s a shame really.

“Ghng…” You manage, gritting your teeth together to stop what would have been a rolling moan from spilling out as a particularly hard grind sends a shudder down your spine, heat coiling in your gut and making you wonder how much longer you’re going to last. But sweet Jesus, if he keeps making those faces it isn’t going to be all that long at all.  
Apparently the same goes for Jake, as the little sharp intakes of breath he’d previously been chorusing have dissolved into a series of shuddering gasps and whines and you can feel the way his hands are shaking on your chest and behind your head. Deciding you’re going to make the most of the situation before it’s all over, you slip one of your hands free from the back of his shorts and trail it lightly forward, over his hip and down onto his thigh, pulling Jake’s leg up and out slightly to the side, the fabric bunching between your fingertips as the new leverage lets you press completely flush against him.

“Oh my _god_ …” He whines, and you let out a low, acquiescent hum, agreeing with him completely as your mouth finds his neck once more, mouthing up his throat and pulling your tongue along his pulse. The fingers on the hand at your chest clench and scratch slightly at your skin, and you can tell from the way that he’s gripping your hair and losing his coordination that he’s close. It would have made you smile against his skin if you yourself weren’t so worked up, but instead it elicits a drawn out groan that has you biting down on his throat to muffle it. Apparently that does it, because within milliseconds of you sinking your teeth into his skin he shudders so violently and grips at your hair so tightly your head is forced back. With a few last frantic rolls of his hips he half wails out something that sounds suspiciously like your name and you see his eyes completely glaze over. It isn’t so much the suddenly elevated levels of pressure and friction from his complete derailment but more the _look_ on his face and the sheer desperation that he grips you with that pulls you down into complete ecstasy with him, the loud groan that you emit simply falling from your mouth as you shake viciously and completely ruin your boxers.  
  
Pulling your other hand free and resting it on the bark beside Jake’s head, you close your eyes and feel the adrenaline leave you, your arms starting to ache a little and your knees feeling weak. You keep hold of his thigh though, as from the looks of him if you didn’t he’d end up face down in the dirt. But you don’t mind and knead your fingers there soothingly, breathing deeply and letting a small smile creep to your lips. He’s smiling back and dear god, this is more than you’d ever dared to hope for, and lowering his leg to the ground you dip your head to kiss him again. It’s brief and nothing like the heated kisses you’d just shared, but you can feel the upturn of his mouth as he smiles into it and that makes it better. Tilting his face to yours –as from where he’d slipped down the tree behind you you’re just a little taller than him- you press small kisses on each side of his mouth as the renewed sense of burning contentment bubbles it’s way from your chest.

 _He likes you._ More than that you’d wager, if what just happened is anything to go by. And you’re so relieved that it makes your eyes sting, and you wonder just how you would have coped if he really had turned you away. But honestly, something tells you that you wouldn’t have.  
These thoughts fill you and before you know it you’ve gathered him to your chest and just hold him, letting the torrent of emotions that you usually suppress wash over you until you feel yourself drown. There are a million and one things you wish you could ask him, questions burning at the back of your skull that you’ve never been so desperate to voice. But you keep quiet and just breath him in, content in that second to just listen to the rhythm of his steadily slowing heartbeat.

“I love you.” You mumble, without really thinking about it. It just seems to slip from between your lips before you can stop it, but you don’t regret it; it’s true and it’s everything you’ve always wanted to say. He doesn’t say it back, but that’s okay. You know that if he did it wouldn’t really be true; you’ve felt this way a lot longer than he has and you understand that. But something from the way he leans into you, nods slowly and how his hands rub small circles on your sides with the gentle familiarity reserved only for you tells you that one day you’re going to hear it, and when you do, he’ll mean it. And that’s enough for now.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and it was only about one lot of twenty five minutes ago that you confessed everything to your best friend, and your life started to turn completely upside-down.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want you to know that me and my friend actually had a serious debate over how long these two could go at it before finishing off. And I totally overestimated them.  
> \-----------------
> 
> Also! This little ficlet was inspired by Akitsu-47's amazing artwork! Specifically this gem here:  
> http://akitsu-47.tumblr.com/post/19022991858  
> (Don't worry, I've gotten permission to link this!!)
> 
> If you're into this ship and you're not following her you've got some explaining to do.


End file.
